Waiting
by Liliththestormgoddess
Summary: A woman waits for her husband to come home. One shot.


**Summary:** A woman waits for her husband to come home.

**Warning:** Tissues? I think so.

**A/N:** Sort of a depressed and happy story at the same time. Kind of the mood I've been in this whole week, so this story popped out of nowhere. A bittersweet romance. I had originally planned for the man to be Face, but I mention no names, so you can imagine it to be any of the guys you please.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the A-Team.

Waiting

By Liliththestormgoddess

I move through the quiet house. It's empty, of course. It always is. Except for me. But I always have our bedroom tidy; I keep his side clear. Ready for when he returns to me.

I don't blame him for being away so much. I understand the complications of his life. I know he can't stay in one place for too long, but if he could, I know he would.

The ring on my finger sparkles, casting dancing lights onto the walls. Sometimes I wonder how it was that we got married. We both agreed it wasn't a good idea, but somehow we also saw that if not now, then never. We knew he would never stop running from the government, and we knew that we weren't getting any younger. We love each other so much, that the strain of time, the separation, could never break it. How, when I spend weeks at a time by myself, sleeping by myself, with no one to hold me, to dry my tears? Honest to God, I don't know. But I get by.

I hear stories of women leaving men because they don't ever see them, and they can't live like that. I say, if it's an honest, deep-rooted love, you _can_ live like that. And for me, why not? I've been living on my own before now, so why stop? I think of those women as poor, wilting flowers. Beautiful on the outside, but wither away quickly. Fragile.

Our wedding was small. It was a private ceremony, just us, and his three best friends. All wonderful guys to be our witnesses. We married under a different name. He didn't want the military to track him down, or to hound me. And I had intended on keeping my name anyways. I didn't want anyone knowing that I was married. Just a secret between the five of us, and God. But when he produced that ring, I knew that just wasn't possible. It looked too beautiful on my finger, and it reminded me of him. So, I wear it, and I wear his name. Sort of.

People of course were astonished when they saw the ring. They ask why he's never around, and I tell them he's a travelling salesman. It satisfies them. I spin stories of him travelling across the country, someplace new each day.

And not all of it is a lie. He does travel a lot. I get a call every other day or so. He tries so hard to call me each day, but it's not always possible. I understand, and it is still sweet when he does call. Sometimes I won't hear from him for three days. Then, they're finished a case, and he calls twice a day on the way home. Home. And he comes home to me.

He never stays long. None of them do. A new client, or sometimes the MP's chase him away. But he never leaves without a kiss, and a whispered promise. That he'll be back. And he always fulfills that promise.

Isn't this how it's always been? I wonder. A woman waiting for her husband to come back from the war. Or from the sea. Waiting and waiting and waiting. Some things never change, I figure. A woman is always destined to wait for the one she loves most…

I move towards the kitchen, to fix a late lunch. The groceries have all just been put away. I work, but of course I don't make enough money to keep this house going and keep myself healthy and fed. Couples always contribute to the other, and he is no different. Believe it or not, he keeps me well off. Some days I'll venture to the bank, and find a few extra grand in my account. The man never stops thinking about me, and provides all he can for me. To this day, the military still has not been able to trace that money. I know he's too smart for them.

I fix a sandwich, and eat it, while examining my ring again. Always, when he comes back, he brings me a gift. A smile finds its way to my face as I recall the earrings he brought last time. They were absolutely lovely. I know, to him, they are a peace offering, but to me, they don't matter. Just seeing him and holding him in my arms are all I need. Just to see him alive, and hear his voice makes me happy.

I swallow. I haven't heard from him in nearly four days. I start to worry, but keep it at bay, keep it from consuming me. I'm sure he's all right, probably in just a tight spot. I trust him, and I trust his friends to keep themselves safe. I trust him to come home.

The phone rings. I nearly toss my lunch out the window as I jump from my seat to the phone. I grab it, and pick it up on the second ring. "Hello?" I ask hopefully.

"Susan, darling, how are you?"

His voice is like oxygen to a drowning man. I nearly crumple to the floor with relief. "Oh, honey, I'm fine, don't you worry about me. How are you? I'm worried about _you_."

I can almost hear his smile through the phone. He sounds tired. "Just fine. Sorry I couldn't call earlier, the last case hit a few snags, but nothing major." A pause. "Susan darling? I'm coming home."

Tears wash my face. I clutch the phone tighter, as if I could reel him in from there. It would be faster. "That's wonderful! When, oh when?"

"Tomorrow, hopefully. And honey, I've picked up this beautiful gift for you. You're gonna love it…" There he goes again with his gifts. The man never stops thinking of me, never stops showering me with gifts. I'm not really listening. I don't even have the heart to tell him to shut up about it, that I don't care about them. No, I lied. I do care, because he cares. I know it's important to him that I have something to remember him by. There's not that much of that in the house; he doesn't stay long enough to leave his stuff here.

The conversation is coming to a close. He has to go. But it doesn't matter. In less than twenty-four hours, the real thing will be here, in my house, with me. Oh, so much to tell him! I will not say it on the phone. I don't even hint. I will wait until he arrives. We say a goodbye. "I love you," he says. "And I'll see you real soon."

"I love you too," I respond, and hang up.

I smile at the world at large. He is coming home. My man, my soul mate…my husband. This is what I live for.

I lay a hand on my stomach, and smile. I wouldn't be so alone soon. "Daddy's coming home," I whisper.

Even if only for a day.


End file.
